Helpless
by Cygnet Shearwater
Summary: When all her wild magic can't save a friend in need, Daine is left feeling helpless.  In loving memory. My first ficlet.


Authors Note: This little ficlet is in tribute and loving memory of my cockatiel. It was not intended to be my first published fic, but I felt it needed writing, and so my other writing was put on hold for a few days. This story was mostly for myself, because as I was standing there watching her fade away at the bottom of her cage, you know I was wishing I had wild magic of my own, that I might have helped her.

Disclaimer: The characters and setting belong entirely to the creative genius of Tamora Pierce. The story and heartache are my own.

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The afternoon sun burned hot in the sky; the exquisite blue of early August, and the heat hung heavy in the air. The cooling breeze blew like a godsend over the land. A perfect summer's afternoon by all accounts. A pair rode is companionable silence over the grassy hills. The taller by far of the two was a lanky male, who looked awkward and out of place on his long suffering mount. His companion, a younger female of far lighter complexion, on the other hand, rode with such ease that an observer would have thought her joined to the horse she rode.

Her name was Veralidaine Sarrasri; although most would recognize her as Daine, Tortall's Wildmage. She was at peace in her mind, occasionally calling out greetings to her animal friends, but otherwise riding in silence beside her friend. She stopped her horse abruptly.

"Daine? Is everything alright?" That would be her counterpart; the lanky male known by all as Numair Salmalin, the girl's teacher, and her friend. His brows were knit together in concern, his head tilted just slightly to the right.

"Something's….wrong. A sparrow, I think. She's…sick, or hurt, I can't tell, just up ahead." Her own face was a mask of worried confusion. She swung lightly off her pony's back, and looped the reins over her neck. _Behave yourself, Cloud. I _mean_ it! _She warned the pony silently before hurrying into the thicket ahead.

Her teacher followed suit, dismounting with considerable less grace, and simply patting his gelding, trusting him to stay put. Her hurried after his student, a bit concerned. She had seemed really upset, and the fact that she couldn't determine its hurts from this short distance worried him a bit. He soon caught up to her, laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.

"Where is she? Do you know what the matter is?" His voice was soft, and held but the slightest trace of his concern.

"I don't…know…I think she's…_coughing_, or…gasping, I'm not sure." Her voice trailed off, and her brow was knit in concentration. Those soft, blue grey eyes scanned the clearing, searching frantically for her injured wing-friend. The area was still to their eyes, but by now even Numair could hear it. A soft, rhythmic, gasping noise. He searched the face of his student nervously; the noise certainly didn't sound good. Her face betrayed her own anxiety, as she searched with her eyes, ears, and magic to find the bird.

It didn't take long. A small bird dropped from a lower branch to the ground. Fell was actually a better word. The angle at which she fell from her perch, and the way she crouched on the ground could not be normal. The girl's face shifted from anxious to frantic as she took in the bird's condition; the unnatural way her beak was opened so far, and her small body shook with each cough. Never once did she lose the fast pace of her coughing.

Daine knelt beside the fallen bird, and cradled her gently in her lap. She closed her eyes, and began probing the small creature with copper strands of wild magic. Try as she might, she could not determine the cause of the problem.

She sat cross-legged on the grass, the bird in her lap, her soft eyes closed, the lashes in stark contrast to the pallor of the skin. Her chestnut curls hung loose to her mid back, and her face was set in a pout; determined concentration. Her lanky companion studied her intently. Of anything he knew of bird, (and that was quite a bit; he had taught Daine most of what she knew,) none of the signs boded well for the little sparrow. He settled down next to his young friend, placing a hand on her shoulder for encouragement. She barely noticed.

She could not determine the cause of the problem. Was the bird choking? Was there something wrong with its lungs? The frantic, gasping cough was only increasing. The one thing that the girl was certain of; this bird needed help, and fast. Daine poured her wild magic into the small creature, letting the copper fire swamp the little bird's body. Sweat broke out on her brow, and she bit her lip in concentration. The copper fire that was always at the core of her being ran out in rivers through her hands and into the bird.

At first, the coughing seemed to slow. The bird sat there, prone in the girl's lap, beak wide open, and panting. And then it started again. With a vengeance. The girl renewed her efforts, the copper-colored magic burned like fire through her veins. She poured the wild magic into her patient, swamping her with it. Her lip began to bleed where she was biting it; sweat ran freely off her face and dampened her shirt. She took no notice. Her only concern was for the feathered friend that lay prone and helpless in her lap.

The bird's coughing subsided again. The sparrow lay on her side, panting heavily, occasionally emitting a choked gasp. She convulsed once, and was still. Her head was partially tucked under one wing, legs askew. The coughing had stopped.

The girl's blue-grey eyes flew open in horror. She held the small body n her hands. She wavered slightly; a bit light headed of a sudden; be it from grief, or exhaustion, she wasn't sure. She was aware vaguely of his hand on her shoulder, but her mind was elsewhere.

"Oh, Daine…" His voice was soft, filled with emotion. "Daine…oh, Magelet." He pulled her gently to his arms, cradling her against him just as she was cradling the sparrow. Against his chest, the grief came crashing down around her.

"I couldn't help her, Numair. I threw all my magic into her, and it didn't make one bit of difference." Her voice was a broken whisper, lost and helpless. Helpless. That was the word exactly.

"Oh, sweet, I know. Hush now, you did all you could. If you couldn't do anything, Daine, there was nothing in this world that could have saved her." He held her gently, one hand stroking her back, offering what little comfort he could. "Sweeting, it was just her time to go. That's the cycle of things. There was nothing you could have done. Not if you had all the magic in the world. Daine, listen to me, Magelet; you couldn't have done anything else for her. She went knowing she had a friend, didn't she? You gave her that. Sweet, you _did_ help her. You helped her all you could."

How much time passed, no one was certain. Long enough for the girl with the copper fire to cry herself out, and when at last the dry sobs settled into exhausted whimpers, her tall companion sighed, and began to pull away.

"Daine; Magelet; you're exhausted. It's getting dark. We have to get back to the palace. Why don't you go find the horses? I'll take care of her." With a miserable nod, face swollen and red from sobbing, the girl handed off her fallen friend.

Only when he was certain that she had left did the man bury her, using his Gift to twist flowers and branches into an arch over the soft mound of earth. He sighed heavily, and turned back out of the clearing the way they had come. The hot afternoon heat had begun to subside, and the song of insect and birdsong had changed into the softer lull of crickets, and night sounds. With a last look at the grave, the man went to comfort his Magelet.

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Reviews would be nice, considering that this is my first published ficlet, and feedback on my writing would be nice. However, I will repeat myself, that this story was primarily for myself, and in loving memory of my own bird. 


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